


Temptations Always Come Along

by notunbroken



Series: Pink Cadillac [1]
Category: Major Crimes (TV), The Closer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 11:03:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21117728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notunbroken/pseuds/notunbroken
Summary: Andy has to explain a certain off-duty activity to Chief Johnson.





	Temptations Always Come Along

**Author's Note:**

> It all started [with this tweet.](https://twitter.com/NYCityAlerts/status/1105912276463353858) Thanks to Sarken for the plot bunny.
> 
> Also I realized belatedly that I should've posted this under The Closer instead of MC, but whatevs. Blame my posting brain being on autopilot.

Deep into the evening on a long day, in the middle of what seems like an endless case, hours of lost sleep make themselves known in an absurd debate. It flings around the Murder Room like a ping-pong ball.

“I think we should have an intervention.” Provenza nods from the whiteboard. “Get on that, Flynn.”

“Yeah,” he deadpans, scrolling through suspicious activity reports, “sure. Let me just call up the Addiction Fairy and place an order.”

“C’mon, guys,” Gabriel half-whines. “It isn’t funny.”

“Sugar dependence is a very real…” At the telltale tap-tap of approaching heeled shoes, Tao trails off with a wide smile that should fool no one. “Oh, hey Chief.”

But it isn’t _him_ that she wants. “Lieutenant Flynn, my office, please.”

There’s something weird about the Chief, here. In place of her usual directness, her eyes fix on a point over his shoulder, toward Electronics. Her thumb and forefinger rub lines at her cheekbone and forehead, where her skin is a little…

_Is she blushing? _

Andy’s not about to believe it’s worse than her yelling, but it’s unsettling enough to leave his spine tingling as he pushes away from his desk. “Sure thing, Chief.”

Inside the office, she nods to the chair across her desk, still not making eye contact with him. It’s weird as hell.

“Uh, Chief, if this is about the thing downstairs with Ross, I—”

Her eyes squeeze shut as she holds up a palm. “Stop, just stop.” A sigh pushes through her clenched teeth. “This is gonna be painful enough without me knowing,” she waves her hand around, “_whatever_ that’s about.”

“Okay…” Andy sinks into the offered chair. _This isn’t good._

She stares to the window across from her desk. “Are you aware, Lieutenant, that your department-issued vehicle now contains a camera to record public interactions when your lights and/or siren are activated?”

“Well, yeah.” Andy swallows the related rant he’s delivered to every other person on the squad. _Nanny state bullshit_. “We had to take that training thing, remember?”

The Chief rolls her lips together and dips her chin into a long, slow nod. As she taps her handful of folders into line against her desktop, she asks, “Then you’re aware those units record the _inside_ of the car, as well?”

“Wait, _what_?” He straightens, scrambling to rewind the last time he went code, what he might’ve said to piss off the brass. He comes up empty-handed for anything _too_ incriminating, but pushes the ignorance angle to be safe. “I, uh, I don’t think I knew that.”

Finally, she looks at him, dragging a sarcastic, slack-jawed eye-roll his way. “It was in your _training thing_, I believe.”

This isn’t the time to admit he’d grabbed one of Provenza’s crosswords to hold his attention during the class. Instead, figuring the inward-facing camera is about to become relevant to his life, he decides to hedge. “I… might’ve missed that part?”

“Imagine that.” She pushes her glasses further onto her nose. It’s a fidgety move she only trots out when she’s _really_ annoyed.

“Look, Chief, just tell me what I said and whose ass I need to kiss to make whatever this thing recorded go away.”

“_Oh_,” the sound is less pissed than pained, which is a good sign in Andy’s book. But then her voice goes high as she says, “If only you _could_ make it go away. Forever.”

All bets are off, with that tone. 

“Chief _Pope_,” she spits, “has required that every supervisor conduct periodic reviews of the dashcam footage from their squad.”

“Oh,” Andy slackens, gesturing to her desk, “so it was only you, then.”

If anything, she goes stiffer. “Yes, Lieutenant. It was _only_ me.” She crosses her arms, leans back into her chair. “Tell me, when was the last time you used the lights and siren in your car?”

“Well,” he starts, then pauses to roll back through their recent work. “I guess it would’ve been when Provenza and I rolled out to back up Captain Raydor at the plaza last week.” The Chief’s stare boring into him kicks off some twinge of intuition in his gut. He pushes a nervous laugh, lifting his arm toward her computer. “My camera probably got a pretty good view of her nailing that dirtbag with her beanbag rifle.”

He only catches half of her answering mutter, ending with, “...nailing _somethin’_.”

Andy frowns. “Chief?”

“Maybe you activated the camera _accidentally_?”

“Uh, I don’t—”

“That same night, perhaps?”

_That night? _

That night… he’d hung around in the office, faking busywork until Sharon returned a text he sent hours earlier. She’d spent the evening nudging her minions through a use of force investigation on her own action. It’d been a long, shitty day, and he’d figured at the end of it the least he could do was offer to buy her dinner. 

Whatever he’d expected out of her after the plaza — at least a little anxiety, probably less talk than usual — was turned on its head by the time he stopped at her office. She’d been burning with some pent-up reserve, so that every element of her was somehow _more_ than usual. Even the way she brushed her hair back from her face had him going ravenous.

She’d been hot, in short, and that judgement was mutual, given her suggestion of a detour to the lookout at Elysian Park.

In his LAPD car.

Recognition hits like a bucket of icewater streaming down Andy’s back. _Sharon with her knees planted on either side of his legs, in the driver’s seat of his Crown Vic. Her breathy laugh brushing his lips as he slides her skirt up over her hips. _

_Her hand sneaking into his pants. His leg jerking upward. His knee’s impact against the control box. The green field beyond the car lit up in blue and red._

_Sharon, uncharacteristically swearing at the interruption as she turns to snap the switches to their original positions._

“Oh my God.” Andy’s head spins. 

What did the tech nerds say about the recording delay on those cameras? They’re set up to keep thirty seconds or a minute on either side of the activation. Plenty of time for the Chief to figure out what they’d been up to.

“Yes,” her voice crisply confirms his memory. “I do believe I heard those words.”

“Ch-Chief, I can explain—”

“Can you, now?” Her voice dips into a familiar smugness, laced with the certainty that she’s got him cornered. “I’d love to hear it.”

As lame excuses pile up in his head, one hope runs over top all of it:

_Maybe it was too dark to see who I was with_. 

The Chief lets him twist in the wind for entirely too long. Finally, she stretches on a poison smile over what is, in retrospect, definitely a blush. “What you do on your own time is none of my business. _Who_ you do it with,” her voice goes cutting, slashing away what was left of his deniability, “while _extremely _surprising, is _also_ none of my business.” She weaves her fingers together on her desktop. “Just…please consider doing it somewhere other than an LAPD vehicle?”

“I will, I definitely will.” Andy swallows hard, forces himself deeper into a conversation he only wants to back out of, if only in an attempt to keep his balls intact for future, non-Crown-Vic, use. “Listen, Chief, I know this is pretty…” He rubs at the back of his head, trying to pull the picture together from her viewpoint. “I dunno, it’s probably pretty scandalous, but—”

“I _do not_ want to get into the specifics, Lieutenant.” She runs her hand over her forehead again, staring at her desk. “In fact, I see no reason to ever discuss it again. No policies were violated, besides some questionable use of city property, anyway.” She clears her throat to the point it sounds painful. “Besides, I’d say the Captain would know better than either of us what is and isn’t against the rules, yes?”

Now it’s Andy’s face that warms. “She probably would, yeah.”

“Okay, then. Just…” She nods in his general direction. “Be more careful.”

“We will— Uh, _I_ will be more careful, Chief.”

At her firm answering nod, he bolts out of the chair. Through the door, he doesn’t slow as he grabs his jacket from his desk. He forces a light tone when he announces, “Well, I’m done for today.” 

Provenza’s head shoots up. “Flynn, you know damn well it’s double chimichanga night at—”

“Yeah, whatever.” 

He scoffs. “Since when do you have anything better to do than Taco Tuesday?”

_Better?_ Hell no. Andy has to go lay his neck on the metaphorical guillotine and tell Sharon they’ve managed to fuck up her precious propriety. It’ll probably put an end to what has become a favorite pastime, if not the entire arrangement altogether.

Still, he scrambles for an answer that might kill his partner’s curiosity as he heads out the door. “Car trouble.”

In the end, it’s not a lie.

_God damn the nanny state._


End file.
